


Filthy Things You Say

by Limoncello_Bella



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Drunk!Steve, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Minor Violence, No drunk sex because Bucky's not the type to take advantage, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limoncello_Bella/pseuds/Limoncello_Bella
Summary: Bucky wanted to kiss him, kiss him and then press him against the wall or desk and do things to him that would leave them both as a pile of sexually sated human mush. Mentally, he swore, he didn’t even have a type, but spitfire twinks more stubborn than a mule were quickly becoming number one on the nonexistent list.Or.Steve is a cuddle-slut drunk and his latest victim is one Bucky Barnes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the Stucky Chat for enabling me. This wouldn't have happened without you guys. I'm also desperately thankful for Queenofthewips for her fantastic beta'ing work. She's one badass mofo, and smokin' to boot!

_‘You’re not allowed to punch customers,_ ’ Bucky told himself again for the billionth time, cringing when someone who was a bit too intoxicated to be considered tipsy yelled too loudly in his ear for another drink. Hell, why on earth did he even think it was a good idea to open a bar in the first place?

It didn’t help that tonight was a high school reunion, and while that meant a lot of tips and insane profits, it also meant a fuckton of people.

“Sarge! We’re out of limes!” Dernier called out, not even missing a step as he juggled bottles of tequila and vodka. “We don’t wanna know what happens when the shots stop flowing.”

The kitchen door swung open and Morita sauntered out, arms laden with trays of their famous chicken wings. He’s barely five steps in before he was swallowed by a sea of people, surrounded by hungry sharks, but only for a moment. When they left, Morita was chickenless and not a spot of sauce left on the platter.

Oh, yeah. it was because of them, his men, his brothers in arms. It had been rough, coming home and suddenly realising that they were… lost. All of them, in one way or another, some worse than others. Opening the bar had been a way to bring everyone back, to give them reason. Two years later, “Howlers” was still up and running, and Bucky was so fucking proud of his boys. Proud of how far they had come, how well they had adjusted to civilian life despite the hell they had willingly walked into and limped out of, barely breathing and, in Bucky’s case, missing an arm.

“Limes!” Dernier called out again.

“Alright, Alright!” Bucky hollered back. “I’ll get you your damn limes.” Trash first though, because the empty bottles were starting to pile up and become a health and occupational safety hazard. He picked up some of the boxes, heading to the back as he elbowed the backdoor open.

The moment the doors closed, the thrumming music and drone of chatter dimmed down and he was left with only the crisp coolness of the night air. He breathed a sigh of relief, maybe he’d steal a tiny break. Five minutes where he didn’t have to deal with people trying to grope him or trying to give him their phone numbers messily scribbled on crumpled napkins.

Then there was a loud, crashing noise behind the dumpsters, followed by the overly familiar sound of scuffling and swearing caused only by people in the middle of a fight.

It wasn’t his obligation to break up fights that happened at the back of his bar, but the good Samaritan in him, the soldier in him, refused to stand by and do nothing. Even if it was just a drunken bar fight, he could end it swiftly and besides, a fight happening behind his establishment would be bad publicity and that’s the last thing he wanted.

Carelessly, he dropped the boxes of empty bottles onto the ground, running towards the commotion. He didn’t expect to see what he saw.

There was a man, built like a brick wall with his muscles bulging out of his suit. His blonde hair was gelled up and he was holding someone so much smaller than him by the collar of their shirt with one hand and the other was poised above him, ready to land a punch.

The smaller man… _fuck_ . He was scrawny, barely 5’4, more skin and bones than anything else. He was gripping onto the hand that was choking him, fingernails digging into muscled forearm. And his eyes, _god his eyes_ , they were a sharp, piercing blue, glaring right at the muscle head, as if he was daring him to try, taunting him to throw a punch. It was like watching a goddamn kitten try to fend off a rottweiler.

Bucky didn't think, or rather, he did, but in the steel, cold methodical way that came with years of training and experience. He didn’t move to attack, but to disarm. The muscle-head didn’t even see him coming, letting out a humiliatingly shocked squawk when Bucky approached. He dropped smaller man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes and squared his shoulders, teeth bared.

“Who are you?” he demanded, arms already coming up, gearing for a fight. He kept on shooting wary looks at Bucky’s arm. What little light that came from the alley danced off the metal plates and Bucky knew how menacing the prosthetic could look.    

“Just wondering what was up.” Bucky could tell then, by the way that he stood and how he held himself, so cocksure with no substance that he was one of those gym junkies. “I can see you’re sort of disturbing the peace there, buddy.”  

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Gym junkie growled.

“I’m fine!” the smaller man said, waving a dismissive hand whilst hacking up a lung. “I got this!”

 _‘You really, really don’t’_ , Bucky wanted to tell him, but he had other things to do first, like teaching this apparently douchenozzle a lesson. Considering himself a fair sportsman, Bucky, let the guy attempt to land a few punches before calmly restraining him a series of well practiced and fluid movements. He pushed the guy’s face against the dingy alley wall, pulling his arms against his back. The smell of alcohol oozed out of guy’s pores like an oil spill and Bucky wrinkled his nose. If he wanted to, he could dislocate both arms, hell, he could do a lot of damage, both repairable and irreparable, but he didn't. He was a swell guy like that.

“Okay. Now listen here. If I see you anywhere near my bar, we’re going to have some words that may or may not end with you ending up in the ER. We clear?” Bucky tugged on the guy’s arms, not stopping until he shouted and began to babble ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ like a prayer.

Bucky let him go, literally kicked him in the arse for good measure, and watched as the man stumbled away as quick as his drunken legs could carry him.

“I had him on the ropes,” the smaller man said, sounding both pained and petulant.  

“I could see that. I’m sure you got in a few good rounds before I came.”

The smaller man scoffed, standing up on wobbly legs,wiping away the blood on his face with the back of his hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled.   

‘ _Pretty hands’,_ Bucky thought. The hands of a pianist or an artist, fingers elegant with delicate wrists; then he noticed the bruise and cut on the man’s cheek. “Shit. He really did a number on you.” Bucky he didn’t think about propriety, instincts kicking in as he gently grabbed at the smaller man’s chin, gingerly tilting his head, fussing over his nose. “Nothing looks broken.” But the bruise was already starting to turn a nasty shade of purple. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“I told you I'm fine!”

“Don’t be such a punk,” Bucky shot back, gently manhandling the blond back towards the bar. “I own the place and I gotta make sure you’re okay or it’s my ass on a platter.” A total lie of course. He was pretty sure he wasn’t responsible because _technically_ the altercation didn’t happen within the premises but heck, the little fella here didn’t know that, and Bucky had a mother hen streak a mile wide, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. Ever.

The excuse seemed to work, because the blond relented, allowing himself to be lead back into the bar. The thrum of the music greeted them as he took him to the office, punching in the pin numbers to unlock the door. “Sit down,” he half commanded, bee-lining towards the mini-fridge where he took out a can of coke and tossed it to the smaller man. “For your face.”

“Thanks,” the blond said gratefully, sighing in relief when he pressed the cold can to his cheek. He sank lower into his chair, looking far too at peace for someone who had almost been beaten to a bloody pulp.

“So do you have a name or am I just going to have to give you one? You look like a Bob to me.”

The blond laughed, but winced when it pulled at his split lip. “It’s Steve Rogers, you jerk.”

With the better lighting of the office, Bucky could see how goddamn attractive Steve was. His jaw was firm, sharp in a way that Bucky wanted to nibble on and his skin was a pretty pale when it wasn’t covered in bruises. He wanted to brush away the stray strands of blonde hair that had fallen over Steve’s eyes. Instead, Bucky sat across the desk, keeping his hands to himself.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. His stomach may or may not have flopped at getting Steve’s name. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes but everyone calls me Bucky. What happened?”

Steve shrugged. “The guy was a asshole in high school and he’s still an asshole now. Nice to know not that much has changed since then.”

“So what? You just upped and picked a fight?” Bucky was torn between being impressed and being incredulously shocked because Steve was _tiny_. He could’ve gotten seriously hurt and Bucky was suddenly so very glad he caught them in the nick of time because he didn’t think the gym junkie would’ve had the self control to stop before things got seriously bad.

“He didn’t know how to leave a girl alone and one thing led to another and we took it outside.”

“Has anyone told you that you have no sense of self preservation?”

Steve grinned. “Like a broken record.”

 _‘Stubborn little shit’._ Bucky couldn’t help but grin back. “No point in me joining the club then. Though I’m gonna have to ask you to try not to get yourself killed near my bar. Or if possible, in general.”

“Very sweet that you care,” Steve shot back, voice dripping sarcasm, but there was still a smile on his face, and whether he realised it or not, he was leaning closer, elbows resting on the hardwood table.    

Bucky wanted to kiss him, kiss him and then press him against the wall or desk and do things to him that would leave them both as a pile of sexually sated human mush. Mentally, he swore, he didn’t even have a type, but spitfire twinks more stubborn than a mule were quickly becoming number one on the nonexistent list. “We’re just going to have to compromise.”

Steve’s smile became suggestive, promising in a way that had Bucky’s pants tightening. “What are you suggesting?”

Bucky was trying really hard to think of a suave way to ask Steve out on a date but it had been so long since he’d actually had to ask someone that his mind was honest to god, coming up blank.

It was Steve’s ringtone that cut through the silence of whatever tension was thickening between them. _“Stars shining bright above you.”_ Mama Cass began to sing, her voice muffled in Steve’s pocket, but Bucky could still make out the famous “Dream a little, dream of me” line.

“Sorry,” Steve fumbled for his phone, face crumpling a bit when he read the caller ID. He picked up, already sounding chastised when he said, “Peggy.”

He shot Bucky a “help me” look. “Peggy. I’m fine, honest. I’m with the owner. No, no I am not dead and dying in a ditch.” A pause, and Steve bit the bottom of his lip, frowning when it pulled at his cut. “Fine. If you don’t believe me, you can talk to Bucky.”

Then, before bucky could say anything else, Steve tossed the phone to him.

“Hello?” Bucky said, shooting Steve a dirty look. They’ve known each other for what, less than 20 minutes it seemed and already this punk was screwing with him. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself, of course.

 _“Hello_ ,” a woman’s voice spoke, her tone clipped and eloquently British. “ _You’re the owner, I presume?”_

“This is James speaking.”

“T _ell me, James, where did you find our Steve? Because I know for a fact he was up to no good.”_

Two could play at this game. “Found him getting his ass handed back to him at the back of my bar, actually.” Bucky grinned, watching as Steve’s expression turned into a full blown glare. “The guy was twice his size, built like a brick shit house,” Bucky continued, “He insisted he was fine, of course.”

The woman on the other line huffed. _“Steven Goddamn Rogers. We leave him alone for two seconds and he picks a fight with the biggest idiot in the place._

“I’m guessing this is a habit?” Bucky may or may have not been trying to suss out what he was getting himself into. “

“ _Yes,_ ” she sighed. “ _Would you be a darling and escort him to us? We’re sitting in one of the booths and I don’t trust him to not get into trouble trying to get there._ ”

“Can do, ma’am.” Because Bucky could already tell by her voice that she was not a person to be messed with.

“ _T_ _hank you, James.You are such a sweetheart,_ ” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself and then hung up.

“Er, not sure if you heard the lady, but I’m meant to escort you back to your friends.”

Steve muttered darkly under his breath and then gave Bucky a wry look. “You’re not going to actually do that, are you? I can find my way back myself. You _do_ realise I’m a full grown man.”

Bucky does, he really, really does. He’s noticed exactly how masculine Steve is, and it made him hot beneath his shirt collar. “I have to,” he explained, “At this point it’s about my well being too cause I’m not sure about you, but she sounded like she could cause bodily harm if I don’t do as she says.”

“Okay,” Steve huffed, “I’ll give you that. Come on then. I’d hate for anything to happen to you because of me.”

Bucky tilted his head in mock thanks. “Very kind of you.”

When they enter the room, Bucky’s men all gave him curious looks, except for Dernier who looked somewhat betrayed. _‘Oh shit,_ ’ Bucky thought, ‘ _The limes.”_  

“They’re over there,” Steve pointed out two women, a redhead and a brunette seated at one of the booths along with another man.

“Come on then.” Casually, Bucky took Steve’s hand, thumb running over bruised and scabbed over knuckles. He was a fighter, and for some reason, that made Bucky’s insides turn into happy mush. Steve had to keep close to avoid getting lost amongst all the writhing bodies on the dance floor.   

“I believe this fine gentleman belongs to you,” Bucky said the moment they reached the booth. They were still holding hands, and Bucky used that to nudge Steve towards his friends.

“He's very fine indeed,” said the redhead with an English accent, and Bucky recognised her as Peggy, the voice on the phone. “But unfortunately he doesn't belong to me. I possess one too many X Chromosomes I'm afraid.” She smiled at him, eyes glinting like that of a hawk, all knowing and all seeing.

“Ah, Peggy. Nice to meet you,” he said, and smiled in what he hoped was a welcoming manner. Nothing got past this woman and Bucky felt as if she was looking into him, visually plucking away his hopes, dreams and weaknesses.

“Natasha and Sam,” Steve finished off, looking both fond and exasperated.

“What was the one thing we asked you to do?” Said the other redhead, Natasha. Already she was touching Steve, hand under his chin as she moved his head side to side, tsk’ing at the bruises and split lip.

“Not to get into a fight.”

“And what did you do?”

Steve openly sulked, looking very much like a wet kitten being returned to its owners after a big adventure. “Nat, he deserved it though.”

“They always do, but that doesn't mean it's your job to serve them a knuckle sandwich.” Peggy was already digging through her handbag, pulling out some tissues which she dunked into her glass of whisky and began to dab at Steve's face.

It was sort of sweet, watching these two women fawn over Steve.

“Sam,” Steve said, practically begging. “Help me out here?”

Sam made the slow show of easing back into his  chair, grinning lazily and looking for all the world like a king. “You're on your own, Rogers.”

“Don’t worry Stevie,” Bucky cut in, winking at Steve and hoping to make a good impression on the girls, because really, he’s got to impress them as well if he wants to so much as get a phone number by the end of the night. “I have your back.”

“Least someone here does,” Steve mumbled, not meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Thanks, Buck.”

Preening over the fact that Steve had just called him “Buck”, Bucky took that as his sign to leave and besides, at the corner of his eye, he could see his boys shooting him curious looks. He knew it was going to lead to a ribbing the moment he went back; not to mention Dernier was going to give him hell for not bringing back the limes as promised. Dernier and his goddamn limes.  

“What happened?” Dugan asked the moment Bucky went back.

Bucky shrugged as he began taking in orders and serving drinks. “Nothing Dum-Dum.”

Gabe barked out a laughing. “Nothing he says. As if we didn’t just watch him escort the little one back to the table as if he were some sort of precious princeling.”

The men chuckled and bucky could feel the blush rising at the back of his neck and across his cheeks. “Quit it,” he scowled, mentally kicking himself when he shot a split second glance at Steve's table. “Don't you all have work to do? Go On. Scram.”

Bucky hoped that they would leave it at that. They didn't. Of course they didn't.

They not so discreetly sent free drinks to Steve's table, plying everybody with cocktails, shots and pitchers of their best beer.

Bucky told them to stop; but they didn’t, because they were all a bunch of arseholes.

It didn’t help that Bucky kept on glancing over.

It didn't help that Steve would glance back too, and flush a pretty pink before throwing back whatever drink he was having at the time.

“I don't need help,” Bucky eventually gritted out, dying a bit inside when he watched Morita saunter over to Steve with yet another tray of drinks.

“Oh but you do,” Dernier insisted.

Morita said something that had the whole table laughing. Peggy shot Bucky a sly, knowing grin as Steve sunk further down his seat, as if trying to disappear. When that didn't work, he accepted another shot and drowned it all in one go.

Bucky was impressed. Steve was handling his drink very well for someone who was so small. “How do you expect me to get his number? At the rate you lot are plying him with drinks he'll end up drunker than a skunk.”

“Well then I guess you're going to have to pluck up the cajones and ask him out before that happens.          

In the end, Bucky didn't have to, because Steve walked up to him.       

“Found you.”   

“You didn't get into another fight while I was gone, did you?” Bucky asked as Steve sat down in the stool in front of him.

“Took down a dragon and saved three damsels in distress, actually,” Steve said rather dryly, but his eyes were filled with mirth.

The bruise on Steve’s face had already begun to mottle into different shades of purple and Bucky winced in sympathy. He scooped up some ice, wrapped it in one of the clean cloths and handed it over.

“'S nice,” Steve sighed happily, pressing the makeshift icepack to his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed, long lashes casting a shadow on his cheek. “You take such good care of me,” he said, practically _purring_ out the words. “I might never leave.”

Bucky laughed, stalling for time as his brain ran laps, trying to figure out how to ask out the man sitting in front of him. He busied his hands, wiping the bench. “Only the best for you, Stevie.” Yes. This was good. Bucky knew how to flirt. This he could do.

“I wanted to thank you,” Setting the icepack down, Steve rested his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer. "For you know, all the free drinks."

Bucky swallowed thickly, because even bruised up, Steve looked so goddamn fuckable, his sleeves had been rolled up, the collar of his shirt dress was slightly unbuttoned, and if Bucky peeked at just the right angle, he could see a hint of collarbone that was so… yeah, no. He shouldn't really be thinking about Steve like this, at least not now in public when the chances of popping a boner in public was starting to look pathetically high. “What can I say? I guess I have a certain soft spot for you.”

“Yeah?” Steve was smirking now, leaning in even closer. “I seem to have a soft spot for you too,” he whispered, voice deep and whisky smooth.

Bucky could smell the cologne on him, subtle but so surely there. They could kiss, if Bucky tilted his head a little further. But he didn't, because he noticed then, as well, that Steve wasn't completely sober. “Should given you mocktails halfway through,” he huffed, drawing back slight ever so slightly, hoping it would help ease the temptation. As much as Bucky wanted to kiss him, he also refused to take advantage.

“So I've been thinking of how to repay you.”

“You really don't have to, Steve.”

“Oh but I do,” Steve insisted, and _fuck._ Surely it had to be a crime to sound so hot. “It's not just for the drinks. You had my back.” He touched, Bucky, hand warm and surprisingly large against Bucky's chest, fingers playing with the top button on Bucky's shirt.

“J..Just doing the right thing, Steve.” And there it was. The erection he had been trying to avoid was now straining against his jeans.

“There are so many ways I could show you thanks,” Steve murmured, his voice a soft breath against Bucky's ear.

“What were you thinking?” Bucky couldn't help but ask, his voice coming out breathy and somewhat strangled.

“Lots of things,” Steve said, smirk so clear in his voice. “Take you out. Wine and dine you. We’d end up at mine afterwards and I’d... I’d _do_ things to you.”

“Like what?” He didn’t really need Steve to tell him, because the things he was imagining in his head was already making what little blood he had left in his brain beeline to his cock.   

Steve chuckled, for once sounding somewhat bashful. “Not sure if it would be appropriate for me to say,” he admitted shyly. “At least not in public.”

“Aw Stevie.” And where the hell did ‘Stevie’ come from? “Don’t be like that. You can tell me.”  

“I’d treat you right, Buck,” Steve said, falling in tune with Bucky; a pet name for a pet name. “We’d go so slow, but only at the start, only for a little while, only till I have you begging for it.” He paused, drawing back to look at Bucky, eyes so fucking earnest as he licked and bit down on his lower lip.  “I think promising to suck your cock until you scream my name might be a bit much, don’t you?”

“Not at all.” Bucky’s going to marry this guy because _jesus fucking christ._  

Steve looked so pleased with himself, grinning like a cheshire cat as he leaned in close and nipped at Bucky’s ear. “What time do you finish work?”

Bucky made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded like an honest to god keen. 'Now’ he wanted to say, 'Right the fuck now’, but no, he had to do it the right way, when Steve’s mind wasn't in a tipsy haze.

“Steve!” Someone—Sam?— called out and just like that Steve was pulled away.

Instantly, Bucky felt a pang at the loss of Steve's body heat.

“There you are,” Sam said, looking for all the world that He was holding Steve by the scruff of his neck as if he were some wayward stray kitten. “We've been looking all over for you. Come on, time to go home.”

Steve grumbled something under his breath, squirming against Sam's grip. When Sam didn't let up, Steve just settled for glaring at his taller friend.

“Hey man,” Sam said, nodding at Bucky in a show of respect and bromanship, “Thanks for all the free drinks.” Then he was dragging Steve away. Towards the exit where Natasha and Peggy were waiting.

It wasn't until they were out the door that Bucky realised that he didn't even get Steve's phone number. He swore, rushing (hobbling, he was hobbling because there was only so many ways you could move with a hard on) towards the exit, hoping it didn't look too desperate. “Hey wait!” he called out.

A random woman turned aground, giving him an odd look before shuffling away.

_Shit._

_\-----_

There were over 30 people by the name of Steve Rogers in their city alone, at least according to _Facebook_.

Bucky was still languishing in despair at the fact he hadn't been able to get Steve's number. He had spent the whole day moping, more pile of sad sack limp noodle than a man. Even his men were shooting him pitying looks.

“Aw, come on Sarge, chin up. Maybe he'll come back?” DumDum had ‘his smile’ on, the same one he used on his nieces and nephews when he had to explain that the last ice cream had been sold and better luck next time.

“Maybe pigs will fly,” Bucky groaned, knowing full well that he was being a whiny little jerk about this but still, he had really liked Steve. Granted they didn't spend that much time together but it was more than enough for Bucky to know that he really wanted something. Call him a romantic but he just _knew._ Steve… Steve was an amazing person and how could anyone not want to date someone like that?

“You could always look through the security cams, get a photo of him and then pass it along to our friendly police department? I mean, what's the point of having friends in the precinct if we can't take advantage of them?”

“Too creepy,” Bucky said, and it wasn't as if he hadn't thought of that already and as much as he wanted to find Steve again, there was a line.

“If it makes you feel any better.” Morita whistles, low and impressed as he counted up the till, “someone tipped us like, 500 bucks last night.”

“You sure it's not you being bad at math?” Dernier joked, but then his eyes widened when he looked over the figures. “Man, you’re not kidding.”

Not even the huge tip was enough to slap Bucky out of his mopey stupor. Okay, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic but he had really hoped something could’ve happened between him and Steve.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dugan was grinning from ear to ear. “Your little princeling is hovering out the front.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Bucky grumbled, but still, his gaze couldn’t help but flicker to the windows and surely enough, there was Steve.

Bucky didn’t know which or what higher being was looking out for him today but he was awfully thankful.

“Well?” Dernier smiled, proud expression mirroring everyone else's and Bucky had an odd flashback to being a child and coming home with his first ever A+. “Aren’t you going to go outside and see what he wants?”  

Even Morita raised an encouraging thumbs up.

These guys. Honestly. What would he do without  them? “Wish me luck,” he mumbled under his breath and went outside.  

Steve was standing there, knuckles and cheek bandaged up. Once again wearing a suit only this time he had a leather laptop bag strapped across his shoulder.

“Hey,” Bucky said, trying really hard not to sound too excited. _‘Play it cool, Barnes. Play it cool.’_ “A bit early don’t you think? We’re not even open for another four hours.”

Steve perked up, smiling a little. “Bucky.” Gone was the seductive spitfire from last night, replaced someone who was endearingly shy. He bit at his bottom lip, not helping the cut that was already there. “Hey.”

He was wearing glasses too and that was just plain cruel of him. How was Bucky meant to get anything done in life now that he knew how adorable Steve looked, his thick black rimmed glasses showing off the blue of his eyes and thick, blonde lashes. “I wanted to say sorry,” he said, voice deep and sombre.

Bucky’s stomach dropped to the ground and then rolled off the curb to be hit by oncoming traffic. Did Steve regret what happened last night? “For what?”

Steve looked at him like he was being daft. “For taking advantage of you.” Suddenly, he flushed red, bright as ketchup. “I _said_ _those things to you_ ,” he half stammered, half gritted out, looking both pained and embarrassed. “It was really inappropriate of me and I really shouldn’t have.”  

Bucky laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was one of those full bodied laughs that left him feeling boneless and relaxed. “Steve. Of all the things to apologize for.”

Steve huffed, the tiny ball of fire that had always been within him flaring up. “It was rude,” he insisted. “And after you spent all night giving us special treatment and having my back. I had to get all tipsy and say silly things—

“I liked it.” Bucky could literally see the wheels of Steve’s brain coming to a stuttering halt before churning back to a slow start.

“What?”

“I liked it,” Bucky repeated, smiling in what he hoped was a mischievous and non creepy manner. “A lot.”

The defensive anger flared before quelling into a soft simmer, and Steve looked at him incredulously. “Really?” he asked hesitantly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what Bucky had just said.

“Yup.” And here it was. Bucky wasn't going to let his chance slip by for a second time but he wasn't going to settle for just a phone number this time. “Well. If you really do want to make it up to me. How about dinner?”

 _“_ Wining and dining? I can do that.” Steve smiled, filthy and sweet in a way that had Bucky's heart stammering in his chest.

“Is tonight too soon for you?” Bucky asked, hoping that he didn't sound too overeager.

“Eight good for you?”

“Yeah.” Bucky grabbed his phone, feeling sort of giddy as they exchanged phone numbers. “You gonna keep good on your other promises too, Stevie?”

“Depends,” Steve said, voice husky and full of dirty promises.

Bucky swallowed thickly, recalling the words that Steve had whispered in his ears the night before. “On?” He asked, voice oddly shaky and feeling far too turned on for the situation at hand.

A limo— so spick and speck that Bucky could see his own reflection on the ebony black paintjob—pulled up to the curb and an elderly driver stepped out, moving to open the passenger door. “Steve, we have to be at your next appointment soon.”

Well, Bucky may have had a clue on who was their generous tipper.

Steve nodded, before he turned back to Bucky, standing on the tip of his toes to whisper, “On whether you're good or not.” Then he smirked, the little shit, before getting into the limo.

The driver tipped his hat at Bucky before returning to the driver’s seat and then he drove off, taking away Bucky’s object of affections.

 

_Two Years Later_

“Cavalry’s here.”

“ _James Rogers-Barnes_ ,” Natasha drawled, “So glad you could finally make it.”

Bucky smiled, slipping a cup of coffee to Natasha, head of security and receptionist at Steve's work. “And how are you today?” he asked, because it was always a good idea to be nice to the woman that could incapacitate someone in a fifth of a second without ruining her hair-do. And sure, he had a military background as well but he really didn't want to try her any time soon.

Natasha accepted the coffee, take a sip before sighing gratefully. “Just the usual although Coulson's going to have a breakdown at some point today because your _husband_ has ignored all of his painstakingly spaced out work meetings and—”

Bucky sighed. “I'll handle it.” Sure, Steve catching pneumonia was almost annual occurrence but he didn't think there was ever going to be a time where his heart wouldn't clench in worry whenever Steve so much as coughed. It really didn't help that Steve was so damn stubborn all the time, today being a prime example. He had just been discharged a few days ago after a rather nasty chest infection that had left him as weak as a newborn kitten already he was overworking himself.

“Good luck,” Natasha called out as Bucky made his way to the elevators. The journey to Steve's office was a familiar one, and soon enough Bucky reached the familiar reception desk belonging to Steve's P.A.

“James,” Phil said, looking at Bucky as if he was the Messiah himself. “Thank goodness I thought you didn't receive my text.”

“I did. Loud and clear.” Because it had come incessantly and all in caps lock. “What has my idiot husband done this time?”

“He's currently in a meeting with all the branch managers and well,” Coulson frowned. “He's not meant to be exerting himself. I tried to get him to take it easy this week and just do light paperwork but you know how he is.”

Bucky sighed. “Thanks for texting me Phil.”

Phil nodded solemnly, proud at having done his job. Bucky let himself in, quietly locking the door once he entered.

“ _Not good enough,_ ” Steve growled, voice low and commanding. He hadn’t noticed Bucky yet, too busy glaring at the laptop on his desk. _Christ_ it was unfair how hot Steve looked when he was in his work mode. He was perfectly kept, a tailored suit that hugged his slim frame, hair parted and styled with just the right amount of product and his glasses, damn his glasses that brought out the sharpness of his eyes.

And yet he looked so _tiny_ in his formidable work space, his small stature being swallowed by the large floor to ceiling windows.

There was a pause and somehow, the expression on Steve’s dark darkened even further. “It’s 2018, if you can’t provide a proper work environment for my staff then I’ll find someone who will. You have a week to get everything in order.” Then he punched the disconnect button on his computer more violently than necessary. He rubbed at bridge of his nose, jaw tense as he brought his other hand up to rub at his chest.

“Hey, you alright?” Bucky asked, instantly concerned.

Steve looked up, and blinked. “Bucky?” he asked, surprised before glancing at his watch. “Were we meant to go out for lunch? Did I miss something?”

“What?” Bucky  said, walking up to Steve and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Can’t I just come visit my best guy whenever I want?”

Steve frowned. “Coulson?” he grumbled after a while, leaning back into his chair with a sigh. “I told him I was fine. He’s such a tattletale.”

“Not just Coulson.” Gingerly Bucky manhandled Steve, shifted and moved him until it was Bucky sitting on the plush work chair and Steve was in his lap. “Natasha,” Bucky added, “And Erskine. Scott from I.T.” They had all texted him, concerned for Steve’s wellbeing. It just showed how much Steve was adored by his people.

“So you’re here to stop me from working, are you?”

Bucky laughed. “I’m here to make you work _less_ ,” because he wasn’t silly enough to think that he could make Steve stop working, period. But doing things like nibbling on Steve’s neck was always a good place to start.

“You could try.” Steve gasped when Bucky nipped at a sweet spot. He leaned into Bucky’s touch. “It’ll take a lot of convincing though.”

“That’s my problem.” He played with Steve’s belt, metal fingers clinking loudly as he undid the clasp. “You just gotta sit back and look pretty.” He tugged the buttons and pulled down the zipper, reaching in to pull out the hem of Steve’s shirt and to cop a feel at the Steve’s stiffening erection.  

“Bucky!” Steve laughed, moving so that he was facing Bucky.  He leaned in closer, smiling a little. “When have I _ever_ done that?” he whispered before their lips touched.

Bucky groaned, parting his lips to let Steve lap at his mouth, soft tongue tracing the curves of teeth and inner chin. Bucky sucked hard on Steve’s tongue and they nipped at each other playfully, making out until they were both breathless and giggly. Even after two years, Bucky’s chest still did this odd little fluttery jump—As if his heart were tap dancing in joy—whenever they kissed.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky growled, hips jerking upwards, his own erection bulging in the front of pants. “You little punk, let me lead for once, will you?”  

“Nope.” Steve squirmed free, gracefully falling to his knees on the plush carpet, hands kneading at Bucky’s thighs. He leaned down to nuzzle the front of Bucky’s jeans, lips grazing the spot where the tip would be.

Bucky hissed, swearing under his breath. His hands automatically came down to caress Steve’s hair. “You’re meant to be taking it easy,” he said, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

Steve hummed. Making short work of Bucky’s pants, flicking the buttons open and pulling down the zip. He reached into the fold of Bucky’s boxer briefs, pulling out his hard cock, tugging softly at his balls.

“Trust me, Buck.” He rubbed the base of Bucky's cock, nuzzling the rest with his sharp cheekbone before kissing the wet tip. “This is exactly what I need right now.” Then he opened his mouth, taking the tip into his mouth and sucking _hard._

Bucky let out a curse, stopping himself midway as he tangled his metal hand into Steve’s perfectly styled hair and bit down on the knuckles of his flesh hand. “ _Steve_ ,” he half moaned, half growled.

Steve took his sweet time playing with the tip, tonguing the slit and mapping every inch of the smooth, silky wet skin.And then he did _that thing_ he always did, the thing that Bucky had tried to learn but Steve refused to teach him. It made Bucky tighten his grip in Steve’s hair and buck his hips, made him groan so loudly that he was worried Coulson would hear them. He was losing control, coming apart at the seams and it felt so damn good.

Steve’s face was a mess, precome and saliva welling around Bucky’s cock to glisten wetly at his  outstretched lips and dribbled down his chin as he bobbed up and down. A  rosey dark blush flushed high across his cheekbones, eyes glazes over and dreamy looking; happy at being so filled with his husband’s cock.  

He made a pleased humming sound at the back of his throat, the vibrations shot through Bucky's cock like a wildfire, had him bucking his hips and thighs going taut. Then, because his Steve was a goddamn Hellcat with no gag reflexes whatsoever, he sunk down further, nose buried into a thatch of hair, throat massaging the length of Bucky’s cock.

“Stevie,” Bucky half pleaded, half moaned, torn between wanting come and staying in the slick warmth of Steve’s mouth. He was pretty sure his metal hand was leaving heavy welts into armrest and the musky scent of sex was already starting to envelope them both.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but he was pretty sure Steve _smirked_ , looking up at him with such cheek as his fingers kneaded Bucky’s thighs and dragged to his groin to play and tug at his balls.

“ _Shit,”_ Bucky swore, panting harshly, breath hot on his own fist. He could feel the tremors in his body—the coil of tension and pleasure tightening in his lower belly. It made his chest feel full, fingers weak as his thighs shivered.

Steve dragged  a knuckle lower, pressed against the spot just under his balls, moaned low and deep in his throat.

A loud snap rang out—sharp and and intrusive—metal and plastic giving way under his metal hand as Bucky came, orgasm shaking him to the core and leaving him a boneless, sated mess. “Goddamn punk,” he murmured, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, touching at the soft spot at the back of his ear. There was a smattering of come that Steve hadn’t been able to swallow and it had dribbled down his chin. Bucky wiped it off with his thumb, running it over Steve’s lip like a gloss.

Steve lapped Bucky’s cock clean, licking away the spots that he’d miss, tongue flicking at the over sensitized flesh and kissing the tip before tucking it back into Bucky’s pants. He licked his lips, looking way too triumphant. “That’s not a nice thing to say to someone who just gave you a fantastic blowjob.” He smiled, standing in between Bucky’s thighs, as he rubbed their noses together before stealing a kiss.

“I’ve had better,” Bucky lied, hand coming down to palm at Steve’s crotch. Well, sorta? Technically he has had better blowjobs they’d all come from Steve so did that count as lying?

“See if I ever suck your cock again,” Steve said, but he was smiling between all the kissing. “Think you could do better?”

“I’ll show you right now.” He was unzipping Steve’s pants when a loud beeping popped the little bubble that was their world.

Steve grumbled, reaching over to press a button on the intercom. “Yes?”

 _‘Mr. Rogers,’_ Coulson said, “ _Mr. Stark is here for his meeting. However he is currently in the lobby terrorising the staff with some sort of drone equipped to shoot starbucks gift vouchers.”_

Steve huffed. “Tell him I’ll be there momentarily.”

 _“I’ll go prepare everything beforehand.”_ And then the intercom cut off.

“Trust Tony to be a boner killer.” Steve groaned and then, looking rather hopeful, asked, “We'll finish this later?”

“At home,” Bucky said, reaching up to fix Steve’s glasses, “In bed. Straight after this meeting.” He tried to finger comb Steve’s hair into place, but eventually gave up and reached for the small comb he knew would be in the drawer. It wasn’t as if this was the first time they’ve had extra marital relations in this office. Steve was well prepared by now and Bucky found the wet wipes just as easily. “No work tomorrow.” He demanded, rubbing a tissue at Steve’s cheek. “Bed rest… and if you argue then no blowjob for you, mister.”

“You’re not being  very fair,” Steve started, but at Bucky’s glare he relented. “Fine fine. I wanna go to that Italian restaurant after the meeting though.”

“That we can do,” Bucky agreed, trying to straighten out the creases of Steve’s shirt.

“How do I look?” Steve asked, lips still swollen and tinted pink from cocksucking.

The thought was enough to make Bucky’s cock twitch. “Not too shabby.” The way his voice sorta broke in the middle of the sentence, however, was enough to have Steve look at him dubiously.

“I’ll double check in the bathroom first before the meeting.” Already Steve was picking up his laptop. “Don’t follow me,” he said with a glare, because they both knew what would happen if Bucky followed Steve to the executive bathrooms where only he had the key.

“I’ll be right where you left me.” Because a post orgasm nap on the leather sofa was starting to look real good right about now.

Standing on the tip of his toes, Steve stole another kiss. “Sounds like plan.” And then he was off, most likely to broker a deal with Stark that would result in both of them saving the environment or something like that.

Bucky may or may not have checked out his husband’s ass as he left before beelining towards the sofa that was rapidly looking comfier by the second. A nap, he thought to himself, call it preparation for tonight where he swore to himself that he was going to give Steve the best blowjob of his goddamn life.

 

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the people who have read, kudos'd or commented! It really makes my day so thank you *hearts all around*


End file.
